'I am happy, too,' she said, in a soft, contented voice. 'All these weeks have been so miserable; I seemed to miss you so--but you would have nothing to say to me. Do you remember that evening when you took my queen? Oh, how unhappy I was that night! And you saw it, and went away.' 'I did not go far,' he returned, taking possession of one hand--the soft white hand that lay so quietly in his. 'It was the only thing I could do for you--to keep out of your sight as much as possible. I walked up and down the road like a sentinel for hours; it did not seem possible to go home and sleep. I felt as though I never wanted to sleep again. I could only think of you in your white gown as you sat opposite to me, and how your hand trembled, and how cold it felt when I said good-night. I thought it was all your goodness, and because you were sorry for me. Were you beginning to care for me a little even then, my darling?' 'I do not know,' she answered gently. 'You must not question me too closely. I hardly understand myself how it has all come about.' 'No,' he returned, looking at her with a sort of worship in his eyes--the worship with which a good, true woman will sometimes inspire a man, and which makes their love a higher education; 'it is all a miracle. I am not worthy of you; but you shall see--you shall see how dearly I shall prize this precious gift.' And then for a moment they were both silent. 'You will not now forbid me to speak to your father?' he said presently; and a shade of anxiety crept into his voice in spite of his intense happiness. The thought of that interview somewhat daunted him. It was surely a daring thing for a junior classical master to tell his chief that he had won his daughter's affections; it was an ordeal that most men would have dreaded. Audrey seemed to read his thoughts. 'I hope I shall never hinder you from doing your duty,' she said quietly, 'and, of course, you will have to speak to him; but'--looking at him with one of her radiant smiles--'you will find him quite prepared.' 'Do you mean that you will speak to him first? Oh no; it is surely my prerogative to spare you this.' 'But I do not wish to be spared,' she returned happily. 'Cyril, I do not think you have any idea of what my father is to me, and I to him. Do you suppose I should sleep until I have told him? There has never been any secret between us. Even when I was a little child, I would take him all my broken toys to mend, and if I fell down or cut my finger--and I was always in mischief--it was always father who must bind it up, and kiss and comfort me; and, with all his hard work, he was never too busy to attend to me.' 'I think in your place I would have gone to your mother. You must not be jealous, darling, if I tell you that I fell in love with her first.'